Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Boggled her mind.
Markovich was in his office, working. She sighed. She hoped he wasn’t planning on working all the way through Christmas. Yesterday, she’d set up all the Christmas decorations. She’d hoped he would notice, but he hadn’t said anything. Not that she was blaming him or anything . . . okay, it was a bit odd. Especially as she’d put some up really high and she’d felt sure he would freak out over the fact that she’d gotten up a ladder to install them.
Still, nothing.
Sighing, she tried to find some oven mitts so she could safely take out the turkey. She’d never cooked one of these before. But she needed to take it out so she could put the sweet potato casserole in.
Since Maria had left for a week to spend time with her family, she didn’t have anyone to help her. And Reyes and Emme were due in a couple of hours.
Gray had gone with Maeve to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with her friends, which had made Dahlia feel even lonelier.
She still couldn’t believe that Markovich’s wife had been alive all that time. That she and Pavel had really been in charge of the whole trafficking ring. That Galina had been working in the background this entire time.
That she hadn’t cared about Dimitri at all. Who wouldn’t fight to stay with Dimitri?
Selfish bitch.
Ruthless prick.
They’d both cared more about power and money than they had about family. Not that she would have wanted Galina to step back into Dimitri’s life. Since that meant Dahlia wouldn’t have him.
And she needed him more than she needed to breathe.
Finally, she gave up on the oven mitts and just grabbed two towels. Opening the door, she coughed as a wave of heat hit her. She’d put the temperature up extra high to make up time. But sheesh, that was hot enough to singe her eyebrows.
Grabbing the base of the tray, she heaved. But the towels slipped and the turkey toppled sideways, slipping off the pan and falling onto the oven door. She let out a scream as it slid across the door, then onto the floor. She leaped for it, but unfortunately, she forgot that the oven door was open. Her shin hit the edge and she nearly toppled forward onto the door. At the last moment, she managed to shove herself backward, falling onto her butt on the floor.
Her butt protested the harsh treatment. And she burst into tears.
“Dahlia? L’venok, where are you?” Dimitri came running into the room. Horror filled his face as he took in the open oven, the turkey on the floor, and her sitting there on her ass, with tears streaming down her face.
“Baby! Baby girl, what happened? Are you burned? Where are you hurt?” He rushed in and landed beside her on his knees, running his hands over her. “Baby, talk to me. Where are you hurt?” His voice was growing frantic.
“I’m o-okay,” she sobbed, trying to get herself under control.
“I’ll get a car pulled around and we’ll take you to the emergency room.”
“No! No, I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Baby, you’ve burned yourself!”
“I didn’t.”
He gave her a skeptical look.
“Really,” she insisted. “I was getting the turkey out, but I couldn’t find the oven mitts, so I used a couple of towels to protect my hands. Only, they slipped when I was pulling the turkey out of the oven, and it . . . it went flying.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Baby, how did you end up on the floor?”
“I tripped,” she wailed. “I went to get the turkey as it flew around like it had wings. Stupid turkey.”
“Dahlia, focus. You tripped?”
“I forgot the oven door was open and my legs hit it.”
“Oh baby, are they bruised?” He gently prodded at her shins and she hissed.
“Daddy, don’t! Hurts.”
“Shit. You could have fallen onto the oven door.”
“I nearly did. I managed to throw my weight back so I didn’t fall on it.”
She noticed how still he’d grown.
“But I’m okay,” she said hastily. “Better than the turkey is, anyway. Dumb turkey. Why’d it have to go flying like that? Doesn’t it know it no longer has wings?” Her Little was pushing forward. Mainly because she was upset and wanted some comfort. Her shins hurt. Her butt hurt. And her pride hurt.
Not only that, but her Thanksgiving dinner was ruined, and all she had were some meals that Maria had frozen before she left. Which would likely taste better than anything she could make, anyway.
“Baby girl, you could have really hurt yourself,” he scolded. “You should have called me instead of trying to pull that turkey out yourself.” He closed the oven before holding out his hands to her. She let him pull her up, then he picked her up and set her on the counter.
“You were busy,” she muttered, staring down at her lap.